


When The Drum Hits

by Qwibbles



Category: EastEnders (TV)
Genre: Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-30 08:44:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21425425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qwibbles/pseuds/Qwibbles
Summary: A sort of follow-on from last Friday's episode (08/11). Ben and Callum continue watching a certain film (I'll leave you to guess what song they're listening to) which suddenly turns into a short discussion about Callum's career prospects.
Relationships: Callum "Halfway" Highway/Ben Mitchell
Comments: 1
Kudos: 91





	When The Drum Hits

**Author's Note:**

> Short, sweet, a bit of fluff, a fair amount of angst.
> 
> Please enjoy!

Ben absently tapped his finger in time with the music, the soft pats against Callum’s arm just audible over the television. His eyes were shut, partly because this was the umpteenth time he had watched this film. Ben’s head gently bobbed with the beat, but not through his own movement. His eyes snapped open as he tilted his head up. Callum’s head bounced, eyes fixed on the screen.

“You’re enjoying this more than last time,” Ben purred.

Callum shook his head and glared at Ben, a flush of red washing over his face.

“I’m not expecting Sharon to walk in on us this time.” The words fell out of Callum’s mouth.

“It would’ve been less embarrassing if you didn’t rush out half-dressed, babe.”

Callum sighed and returned to watching the film. “Anyway, how have they all managed to learn the dance so quickly?” 

“The lyrics are literally instructions, babe. Keep up,” Ben replied. Callum rolled his eyes and continued nodding his head. He freed his arm from Ben’s grasp and tapped Ben on the cheek.

“Clap three times,” chimed Callum with the music.

Ben narrowed his eyes, but his glare was useless. Callum’s smile disarmed his feigned frustration, again. It was one of a few things that could stop him in his tracks. Something several beatings and violent threats could never accomplish.  
Ben collected his resolved as best he could, not wanting to keep his mask down for long.

“I’ll throw you down in a minute,” he shot back. Callum planted his hand on Ben’s face in response.

“Stick it, glide,” His hand slid off Ben’s face and onto his chest, beneath the thin fabric of Ben’s shirt. Ben latched onto his arm before Callum could pull away.

“You’ve invaded my space,” said Ben biting his lip. “You’re staying here now.”

“That’s keeping me against my will, could have you arrested for that.”

There it was—the reason Ben never got to taste Callum’s, or Whitney’s, chicken pasta. Callum still had no idea. A reminder that one day Callum may be the one pushing Ben against a wall and cuffing him, not in the fun way. His smirk deflated at the thought. But that is all it was, a thought. The seed was planted when Ben was shot after Callum’s almost-wedding. Though still only a sapling, the idea’s roots were firmly in place. Ben only saw it for the weed that is was the day they became boyfriends.

“You’re not actually going to arrest me, are you?” Ben asked, unsure if his own question was serious.

“Course not,” Callum mumbled. “What kind of question is that?”

“Just can’t imagine you being a copper,” Ben said as he looked up at Callum. Their eyes met.

“You what?” Callum sputtered, eyebrows raised.

“Sorry, let me rephrase. I can’t imagine you being a copper.” Ben tightened his grip on Callum’s arm, there was no escaping this conversation.

“What happened to being a supportive boyfriend?”

“I’m being supportive, I’m just not sure—”

“Not sure about what?” Callum ripped his arm from Ben’s hold. His eyes shimmered in the morning sunlight peering in through the windows. Ben needed to choose his words carefully. He hated lying to Callum but avoiding the truth instead of covering it up hurt him just as much.

“About—,” Ben had to cut himself off. The noise of the film faded into distant muffled murmurs. “About us,” he finally released the words from his mouth and shot upright, turning to face his boyfriend.

Callum’s breaths were silent, masked by the echo of Ben’s words in his head. Ben grabbed Callum’s hand with both of his like it was the only thing keeping him from falling off the edge of a cliff. Callum didn’t respond, instead letting his hand fall limp. Numbness followed.

“What do you mean?” Callum trembled, his voice almost overpowered by the muffled television. Ben squeezed Callum’s hand like he was trying to find a pulse.

“I’m a Mitchell, Cal. I just don’t know how it could work.”

“You think I don’t know about your dodgy business?” Callum snapped. “The first thing you did was sell me a stolen van!”

Still nothing from Callum’s hand. Persuasion was normally one of Ben’s better skills, but when his heart is involved everything crumbles. Honesty was not Ben Mitchell’s policy. But it was the only thing that works with Callum that doesn’t leave him feeling like a villain.

“That’s not all, babe,” Ben whispered. “I do more than just sell dodgy bangers.”

“I know.”

Ben’s heart froze. Callum was aware he wasn’t being fully honest. But of course, Callum _sees_ him unlike nearly everyone in Ben’s life. Dishonesty was never going to work, not with Callum.

“Then why—”

“Because you’re not some criminal kingpin, Ben.” It was like Callum punched him in the face. “You think I haven’t noticed those random cuts and bruises, those shady phone calls, those times you—”

“You don’t need to list all my issues, we’d be here all week.” Ben tried to feign a chuckle, but all that followed was a whimper.

“No, don’t do that. Don’t put your guard up, Ben.” Callum’s eyes shuddered like his voice, but they were sharp. They cut through Ben’s emotional walls like a sword through paper. Ben felt the stabbing pain in his chest. His heart throbbed, aching, hurting. This was not heartbreak, that much was clear. His hands still clung to Callum for dear life.

“That’s just not who I am, Callum. I ain’t a squeaky clean goody two-shoes.” The words took their time to find their way out of Ben’s head.

“We wouldn’t be boyfriends if you were,” Callum sighed. Ben felt the soft tug of Callum’s hand in his grasp. Ben tracked a solitary tear fall from Callum’s chin onto Ben’s hand. “We can make this work.”

“But how? You deserve someone _good_, Callum.”

“We’ve had this conversation.” Callum’s words felt like a slap. Ben’s face was red with the evidence. “You just need to enjoy yourself, Ben. I mean _really_ enjoy yourself. You do all these things for other people and not you. People are never gonna accept you for you if they can’t see who that is.”

Ben’s hands felt cold. A sudden warmth engulfed his sunken head. It was Callum’s embrace. Ben was wrapped up in the bigger man’s arms, protected.

“Where’d you learn all that?” Ben asked into Callum’s shirt, damp with Ben’s tears.

“I learned it from you.”


End file.
